


Thawed Heart

by IFrozeYourCookie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, But I'm not sorry enough to stop, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I do too many angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, One Shot, Parent!lock, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 06:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IFrozeYourCookie/pseuds/IFrozeYourCookie
Summary: A oneshot fic about the fragility of Sherlock and John's relationship post-Mary's death; John, clearly still affected by the death, questions Sherlock's rather nonexistent moral principle in which Sherlock explains how he works in terms of mannerism. That doesn't make John understand better either, but more frustrated at him until Sherlock slipped up a confession.





	Thawed Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I always have long gaps between writing any fics so bear with my writing :) It's been an age.

 

   "Why are you always so cold?"

   Sherlock looked up from his experiment that he had delayed because of Rosie, gave John a questioning hum and waits for an anser.

   "You know, everything nice that happened between you and almost everyone are usually fake and you never cared how it affected your... Lab rats for this social experiment of some sort. What made you like this?" he fiddled with the handle of his teacup, looking intently into Sherlock's direction. He could only sigh at this question, knowing it would as well start a petty banter between the two men and wake the poor sleeping Rosie in another room. Carefully, he revert his focus back to the slide of sample under the lens of the microscope, while adjusting the height of the sample to get a sharp microscopic image to be recorded.

   "I don't see why you should know. Just because you're my best friend, doesn't mean you can fish for any information from me, John,"  _This is distracting me._ He grabbed a fountain pen beside him and started to jot down some notes all the while still focusing into the microscope.

   "Your coldness and stubbornness was what caused Mary's death! Of course I bloody deserve the goddamn information!" The sharp tip of the pen dug into the notepad a bit upon receiving the vile statement.  _This is just as much abuse as when you said I killed her before. You shouldn't even bother taking back your words if you're just going to spit it out when you feel like it._ Readjusting the pen in his grip and looking at a sharp line he made when he put too much pressure, he let out a long breath in attempt to calm himself before going back to the experiment.

   "Everybody have a soft spot for kindness and hey put more trust onto friendly figures with information they seek for. That, for me as a consulting detective, is an advantage. I use a friendly facade to solve cases and maintain a cold one in the other times because it's not as necessary outside of cases. It's as simple as that, John, that even a brain like yours could've form an answer like that," That, even for him, felt like a scripted answer. It, in a way,  _was_ , a scripted answer. Of course he uses the friendliness and coldness to his advantages in many cases but it is an advantage for him personally as well. Being cold lets him get away with feeling too much emotion which are very much bothersome. 

   "You hardly ever open up to me anymore after the incident. Is that why? Being nice to me isn't necessary anymore?"  
   "We are not having this conversation,"

   "Yes, we are. Tell me why, Sherlock," now he's near pleading for a reason to why Sherlock is much more emotionally distant now towards the only person he had ever trusted enough to show his true self, his quirky side and his sweet side. He misses them a lot, even though he have Rosie now to occupy him with such behaviors but he just want to tear down the wall Sherlock had miraculously put up when John was in a way, neglecting him. Even in the hospital when they worked on the Culverton Smith's case, Sherlock was hesitantly playful towards him, and it hurts.

   "I am nice for an advantage, for a heads up and to be ahead in a situation. People don't help nor reward arrogant arses do they? So tell me, what's the point of being as nice to you anymore if it doesn't make you-" he pauses. _Damn it Sherlock, you can't just accidentally tell him things you had successfully ignored all these years._ John, for the second, even ditched his anger and look almost sympathetic towards Sherlock when he realized the hesitation in his statement but he was still expecting an answer. He can't 

   "Make me what, Sherlock?" Sherlock gave an apologetic expression when he was about to answer when he heard wailing of little Watson from the other room. Usually he would stay and let her own father handle her tantrums but he obviously needed an escape from this suffocating conversation, and fled for her.

    

* * *

 

 

   "Shhh, Watson. Go back to sleep," Sherlock mumbles under his breath while cradling the head of the toddler in his arms, when he was actually meant to say his thanks allowing him an acceptable escape from John.  _John is just still in his grief period, he'll calm down. No need to broach the unfinished subject whilst he's still mad._ He sigh because he just didn't know what else to do but pretend the conversation never happened, and it's as if John though the same because he wasn't running after his girl even after almost a quarter of an hour Sherlock was with Rosie. A few moments had passed and Rosie was sound asleep again. The air was also lighter, so perhaps it's appropriate to come back out to the kitchen/living room area again and confront John.

   He walked slowly, almost as if scared a quick movement would trigger another row, back to the kitchen and tried his best to focus on the drop of sample on a glass slide. But he was clearly only looking blankly into the microscope when his mind was full of worst case scenario about his relationship between him and John if the conversation were to happen again,  _which it will_ because John Watson was the kind of person to seek a closure for everything. And he was, as always, right, when he saw John entered the kitchen with guilt plastered across his face.

   "Sherlock?"  _Just ignore him, Sherlock. You're always so absorbed in your experiment, he'll understand._

"We need to talk, about just now,"  _No we don't. Because all you're going to do is bring it up again when you want to make me guilty._

"Sherlock, I know you're not even focusing on that,"  _Because I'm only thinking about how you would push me away if you keep insisting on this conversation._

   "Shut up, John,"

   "Sherlock, please. I'm sorry," A bit too forced of a tone, but he needed to get this across. Sherlock sucked a breath and muttered his response.

   "No don't bother. This is just a way for you to insinuate your guilt for nearly screaming at me about your wife's death but will endlessly mention it when you're want to get an information out of me," Maybe a little too harsh, but every person have their limit that they can't ignore even if the person in front of you is your whole world.

   "Right. You're right, you always are. Which is why I need to know the end of your sentence, so I can tell you if that statement is also right," There's an awkward pause as Sherlock looked at John, almost angry that he had to say it.

   "Tell me, it wont make me  _what_?" He steps a bit closer but just at a safe distance for a tense situation like this.

   "Make you... love me," he said in barely a whisper but it still echoed in the room enough for John to hear it. He looked down at his hand with the pen he had gotten some time ago from John.

   "Wh- Sherlock, I love you. You know that. We're best friends and-"

   "You still don't understand it, John. I love you, in a romantic way," he put down the pen as if anything linked to John at this point burns to even think about at that moment. He needs to avoid this shameful confession. John cleared his throat, obviously wanting his attention.

   "I understand, Sherlock. Because I also love you in...  _that_ way," he walks closer to a bewildered Sherlock who was trying to make sense of the sentence. He must think this was just some trick, still. When he's at arm's length, he was about to reach out to grab Sherlock's hand a little too quickly because he saw how he flinched at the movement. Both with sorry in their eyes, John properly took one of Sherlock's hand and crouched in front of him so that he wouldn't need to look up at John or in a way forcing him to meet face to face.

   "John, if this is some kind of trick, I'm not buying it," John smiles sadly as he brought Sherlock's hand in his grip to his mouth and brush a gentle kiss on his knuckles, in which he didn't take too well when he tensed up. Probably just shocked at the sudden action.

   "It's not a trick, however I try to convince you but believe me it's not a trick,"

   "How can I believe you when all these times, for me it's always you but that doesn't apply to you, does it? So why tell me now?"

   "Because I'm not the only one who deserve an important piece of information; a truth, once in a while," It must be a while since he heard such sincerity that was meant for his ears because Sherlock was visibly taken aback by this. It was always deceit, mockery and dejection in his everyday life, and the Watsons was one of the only joy he could obtain for his sake of sanity. And for once, he had gotten something he never had expected from John-mutuality of interest. He raised John's hand that was holding his and rest his forehead on it, hiding his face in case he suddenly had been emotional from this.  _Sentiment is embarrassing_. 

   John lets out a breath of relief because Sherlock didn't run from this, at least not anymore.

   "Did you really meant what you said?" his voice hitched midway through the sentence, most probably holding back tears (hopefully) of joy. Or it could just be tears of relief.

   "Every word, Sherlock. Every word," by now, he sounds like a mother comforting a distressed child who was still hiding his face. Smiling softly, he stood up slowly and Sherlock pulled back from behind their hands, eyes rather glassy. John cupped Sherlock's face and just admired the emotion he missed on this beautiful face, thumbs ready to wipe any spilled tears from the verdigris eyes. Sherlock's face started to give a hint of pink blush from surpressed tears and embarrassment that he leaned forward to hide his face against John's chest, wrapping his arms around John's sturdy torso while John hugged him back, making soothing hand movements on his back and hold his head with the other hand. Maybe they wont be a perfect pair, always on and about keeping each others on their toes, but that's perfect enough for them.

   "Thank you,"

 


End file.
